


The Problem With Now

by Khi0n3



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:12:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khi0n3/pseuds/Khi0n3
Summary: Recently orphaned Kit Herondale finds himself on the front steps of Idris Academy when no one else will take him. The last thing he expects to find in this dreary place is a home, but when Tiberius Blackthorn walks into his life ends up being his roommate Kit finds himself letting down his guard for the first time ever.





	The Problem With Now

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

 

Kit started up at the stonewalled school. It looked like a run down castle that had been mostly deserted for the better part of a century. A crooked sign hung above the main entrance, streaks of rust streaming down from the letters - Idris Academy. It was a boarding school. A boarding school for orphans. 

Grimly he thought to himself that the cold rain dripping down his neck and passed his collar and the dark grey skies only made this seem like a scene from a tragic movie. A young blonde hair boy in a too large jacket and water squelching between his toes from the holes in his shoes standing in front of a run down school. Yup. Definitely tragic. 

This was nothing like the homecoming Harry Potter had received when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Quite frankly, Kit didn’t believe that living at this school would be anything like the daring tales from Harry Potter’s life. He expected it to be drab and cold - exactly as he was right now standing in the rain. 

With a heavy sigh, he picked up his suit case and started walking towards the front doors of the school, the wet gravel crunching under his feet, the water uncomfortably soaking his feet leaving the spaces between his toes feeling as if he’d just stepped in dirty snow. The gentle swish of tires on wet asphalt told Kit that his social worker’s car was pulling away from the loading zone. He’d be happy to never see her over bright face ever again. 

“I know you’ll just have a spectacular time at this school,” she had said in her sickly sweet voice as they’d pulled up to the school only moments before. Her voice was like a marshmallow covered in thick honey - so sweet it made your teeth hurt. It made Kit feel as if she was being insincere - like everything she said to him was just a lie. “I’ve helped plenty of children find a place to stay at this school, and all of them seem quite happy here,” 

Kit remembered feeling as if he was pulling up to the school from the Series of Unfortunate Events - he peered around the grounds in search of some mould covered shake they might expect him to live in while he was here just to make sure this wasn’t the same school. Now as he walked up the stone steps of the school he felt that dread rising up from inside his stomach once more. He felt his eyes burning with frustration as he clenched his free fist, feeling his finger nails cut into his skin. Why hadn’t his father done more to find him a place to stay in case something like this had ever happened? Now, here he was, alone at some school where he’d have to stay until he was 18. 

He reached the heavy wooden doors, and pulled it open by the iron handle. The metal was icy on his hand and slick from the constant rain pouring down from the heavens. Or was it slick from the many hands like his pulling this door open as their last resort. From the hands of children no one wanted. As the door swung open on it’s rusty hinges, squeaking in protest, light poured out onto the grey steps. It wasn’t a particularly warm light. It was the light from fluorescent light bulbs, a harsh blue light that put everything in the dreary and damp foyer of the school into stark contrast. No one milled about idly in the foyer. No clamour of voices reached his ears. It was almost eerie, as if he’d been correct with his original assumption that this building was deserted and had been for the better part of the century. The only sign that this was a modern place of learning was a bulletin board at the far side of the foyer and signs that vaguely pointed off to the “OFFICE” and “CAFETERIA” and “DORMITORIES”. He glanced at the paper he grasped in his hands, passed to him by the social worker as she ushered him out of her car. The page was damp from the rain fall and felt worn between his fingers. The black ink from the social workers pen smudged from the rain drops, only barely legible.

_Go to the main office to check in. They will show you to your dorms and provide you with your uniform. They are expecting you._ He managed to make out from the social workers loops handwriting. Following the signs to the office, Kit struggled to carry his only suitcase down the long, dark halls. Vaguely, Kit noticed that the halls were lined with the same cool florescent lights and thick, weather worn windows with calcium and lime stains from hundreds of rain storms just like this. The bleak light barely filtered in through the windows leaving the hallways feeling cold. A group of students brushed passed him as he finally reached a door with a brass plaque that read “OFFICE”. They were about his age, wearing matching uniforms of dark  colours. Blue? Maybe Black? Kit didn’t really get a good look. It could have been his mood or his general outlook on life at that moment, but he thought the students now trudging down the same hall he’d just dragged his suit case up looked heavy with sunken eyes and no joy. 

With relief, he pushed open the office door and found himself facing a secretaries desk. He unceremoniously dropped his heavy suitcase on the dusty carpeted floor with a path worn from the door to the desk where hundreds of students had shuffled along over the many years. The secretary raised her eyes from her computer where she had been busily clacking away on keys importantly. The woman had a severe face with small, suspicious eyes magnified by glasses on a beaded string. She stared at Kit over the top of her glasses, pursing her thin, lined lips in disapproval as she sized him up. 

“I’m Kit Herondale,” Kit said in what he hoped was a confident sounding tone. 

“Ah. Yes,” the secretary replied shortly, returning her gaze to the computer in front of her. Kit saw her move a bony hand with dangerously long and pointed nails from the keyboard to the mouse to scroll through documents or something on her screen. “I’ll let the Headmistress know you’ve arrived. Please sit over there” She indicated two well worn wooden chairs with cracked leather padding on the seat and back. The leather was the kind of grey that was in the interior of old cars. 

Kit shoved his hands in the pockets of his too big jacket, his fingers brushing the holes at the bottom and the crumbs from cookies he’d filched off of stands in the market. With his wet and worn sneakers, he pushed his suitcase over to the corner with his foot. He threw himself down wearily in the distressed chair wearily, continuing to finger the holes in the bottom of his pocket and trying not to notice the way the secretary kept glancing disapprovingly at him. He wanted to jump up and scream at her. _What’s your problem?_ Was it his shaggy hair that had obviously not been washed in two weeks, his tattered and torn clothing? It’s not as if any of it was his fault! His father couldn’t afford anything better and he’d spent the last few weeks holed up in that awful hospital because they were “worried about his mental well being”. Well fuck them. Fuck all of them. 

Finally the door behind the secretaries desk opened to reveal a young, and beautiful woman. She was tall and slender like a runner, dressed in an olive green dress that fell to her knees. The woman had dark hair pulled back loosely into a messy bun, dark skin that looked as smooth and warm as chocolate, and warm brown eyes flecked with green. But none of that was what Kit noticed first. On her left cheek, underneath those warm brown eyes was a tattoo of a koi fish. As she exited what Kit could only assume was her office, her eyes scanned the lobby in front of the secretaries desk. Her eyes fell instantly on Kit and her face lit up with the first genuine smile Kit had seen in weeks. He felt some of the anger that was threatening to boil over in his chest start to settle. 

“You must be Kit,” the woman said in a kind voice. Not sugary sweet like the social worker. Not sharp and disapproving like the secretary. Kind like she could truly understand the pain she could see on his face. Kind like a soft and familiar blanket that you could curl up in. Yet, Kit could tell this was not a woman to be crossed. That she had her rules and expected them to be followed. To the letter. “I’m Ms. Wrayburn, the headmistress at this school. Please come into my office.”

Silently, Kit picked up his suitcase, his arm screaming in protest as he did, and followed Ms. Wrayburn into the office. The headmistress settled herself in a worn looking, black leather office chair on the other side of a battered office desk covered in scattered papers and half empty coffee mugs. She gestured for Kit to take a seat in the chair opposite her which was identical to the chairs out in the main reception area of the office, with their cracked grey faux-leather seats. 

Kit dropped into the chair and crossed his arms as he glared definitely across the desk at Ms. Wrayburn. 

“Well, first off, Welcome to Idris Academy” Ms. Wrayburn said warmly. The first warmth he’d felt in weeks. Yet he refused to answer. _This is probably just some facade,_ he thought to himself. Ms. Wrayburn looked expectantly at him as if she was waiting for him to reply. When he didn’t, she continued - not missing a beat. “We’re very happy to have you join us here. I think you’ll find you’ll make a nice home for yourself here among our other students. Many of them came to us in similar situations as your own…” at this Kit interrupted. 

“You mean they saw their father’s murdered? Found out their mother’s didn’t want them?” he snapped. Ms. Wrayburn just gazed across the desk at him, her eyes full of some emotion. Pity? Saddness? Understand? Kit didn’t care what it was. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. 

“I know this must be a very difficult time for you and I can’t even start to imagine what you’re going through,” she answered softly. 

“No you can’t” Kit replied, slumping down in the uncomfortable chair. They remained in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Kit finally relented. “Whatever…”

“If you need to talk, Kit, my office is always open,” She finally told him. 

“Well I don’t want to,” 

“Okay,” Ms. Wrayburn said gently, and fell into silence again, waiting for Kit to say something. Anything. 

“Can you just finish with this so I can go to bed?”

“Of course, are you ready to move on?”

“Yes,” Kit growled, glowering at Ms. Wrayburn and her persistently calm and gentle demeanour. 

“Good. Well as I was going to say, classes will start tomorrow for you. You’ll see that I have included your class schedule in this folder for you. You’re coming mid semester which means there might be a bit of catch up work you’ll have to do.” Kit nodded silently, still glowering. “You’ll be given 3 sets of uniforms. It is your responsibility to care for these uniforms. You are expected to wear uniforms during class time. Weekends and evenings you may wear what ever you’d like. I have assigned you a dorm room, your room mate should be down shortly to take you on a tour…”

As if on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door. The opened with a small squeak of old hinges to reveal a boy about Kit’s age. The boy was about Kit’s height, maybe a few inches taller, and had a thin build. He had soft pale skin, high cheek bones and graceful cupid-bow lips. His most startling trait was his grey eyes framed in long black lashes and partially obscured by his dark fringe. The boy’s eyes darted around the room but refused to settle on anyone thing. 

“You called for me, Ms. Wrayburn?”

“Ah, yes! Tiberius - meet your new room mate. Kit Herondale.”

The boy, Tiberius, smiled in Kit’s direction, never really meeting Kit’s eyes, but as he glanced at the boy all he could think was _How beautiful…_


End file.
